


An Enterprise Night Before Christmas

by Warp5Complex_Archivist



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Gen, Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-08-26
Updated: 2006-08-26
Packaged: 2018-08-15 16:51:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8064433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warp5Complex_Archivist/pseuds/Warp5Complex_Archivist
Summary: A take on the famous Christmas poem by Clement C. Moore.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

  
Author's notes: I just wanted to have a little fun with our favorite Enterprise characters. Distracted helped me with it, as she always does.  


* * *

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the ship  
Neither human nor Vulcan stirred, not even Trip;  
The stockings were hung by the transporter with care,  
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would beam there.  
The crew were nestled all snug in their beds,  
Malcolm cuddled with Hoshi; Jon with Porthos instead,  
And Tâ€™Pol in her silk, snug with Trip in his blues,  
Had just settled their bodies for a long winterâ€™s snoozeâ€¦  
When up on the hull there arose such a clatter,  
I sprang out of sickbay to see what was the matter.  
Away to the viewport I flew like a flash,  
Pausing while feeding my bat his blood mash.  
Starlight through the porthole was vividly aglow,  
And gave the luster of mid-day to the saucer below,  
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,  
But a tiny shuttlepod flying in the wrong gear,  
With a little old driver who didnâ€™t know how to steer,  
I knew in a moment he had something to fear.  
More rapid than eagles the tiny vessel flew,  
So out of control that the engines just blew,  
And he whistled and shouted with most pitiful rue.  
â€œTo the top of the ship! To the top of the wall!  
Now dash away! Dash away! Before I fall!â€  
As starlight twinkled in the galaxyâ€™s sky,  
Old Santa knew it couldnâ€™t be his time to die,  
Next time heâ€™d just leave the reindeer to fly.  
So up to the ship-top, there was a bright flash,  
And the Captain and I knew that Santa had crashed.  
Trip came running from his quarters all dressed in blue,  
His engineerâ€™s mind knew exactly what to do.  
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,  
Onto the transporter pad St. Nick came with a bound.  
He was dressed all in fur from his head to his foot,  
And his clothes were all tarnished with engine grease and soot.  
He gave Tâ€™Pol an eye,  
And looked rather sly,  
And the commander beamed his bundle aboard with a sigh.  
Trip then turned to Tâ€™Pol,  
As she stood in P.J.â€™s in the hall,  
And she raised her eyebrow at him with un-Vulcan gall.  
We gathered together, watching the jolly old fellow,  
Who then opened his bag that was shaded bright yellow.  
His eyes-how they twinkled-his dimples how merry!  
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!  
We looked on with great wonder  
As he made not one blunder.  
He filled my stocking with an abundant supply of blood flies,  
And shoved into Tripâ€™s, two large-sized pecan pies.  
Several toy cannons, he placed into Reedâ€™s  
For explosions, Santa knew, were one of his needs.  
A 200 language dictionary for Ensign Sato,  
Malcolm thought to himself, Is it potato or po-tah-to?  
Captain Archer got a model ship, ready to go,  
And into Tâ€™Polâ€™s, went a sprig of mistletoe.  
The Vulcan wondered, What is that most unsightly greenery for?  
Perhaps Commander Tucker desired to even the score,  
To initiate a kiss and even a bit more.  
Tâ€™Pol wasnâ€™t certain about what was in store.  
For though Tripâ€™s face was now a deep shade of red,  
Tâ€™Pol knew that her bondmate was certainly NOT. DEAD.  
With his work now complete,  
Santa sprung to his feet,  
And laying his finger aside of his nose,  
With a quick nod to Trip, to the transporter he rose.  
He abandoned the broken pod and called for his sleigh,  
And by magic his reindeer appeared on their way,  
With reindeer-shaped EV suits in brightly colored array.  
He snapped his fingers to dress himself, to his teams gave a whistle,  
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.  
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,  
â€œHappy Christmas to all, and to all a good-flight!â€


End file.
